Stuck
by theonceandfuturekiki
Summary: Don and Sloan keep getting stuck together.
1. Chapter 1

"I can't believe this. I can't believe this," Don muttered.

"You need to calm down," Sloan said, not glancing up from her blackberry.

"What the hell is happening up there that we haven't moved in 34 MINUTES!?" he shouted, ignoring Sloan.

Finally looking up from her blackberry in annoyance, Sloan glared at Don. "God, you are the most impatient person on the planet."

"I would bet decent money that that's not true."

"This is the second time I've been stuck with you in an unmoving vehicle. You haven't reached Stuck on the Tarmac levels of annoying yet, but you're coming close.. You need to calm down. You're the one getting the award. I don't think they're allowed to start without you."

Realizing she was right, Don calmed down. He looked out his window and let his mind wander. Unfortunately, when he let his mind wander it usually ended up settling on…

"Did you see how Maggie just practically leaped into the taxi with Jim?"

Sloan put her blackberry in her lap in frustration. "And now you've surpassed Stuck on the Tarmac levels of annoying."

"It's just-"

"It wasn't just Jim in that cab. It was Neil, too."

"So she gets a free pass for wanting to be around Jim more than she wants to be around me just because Neil is around, too."

"Well, at least you know nothing is going to happen as long as he's around."

"That's comforting."

"Unless Neil's in on it and is keeping their secret."

"What?"

"It could be a whole plan to throw off suspicion."

"Aren't you trying to make me feel better?"

Sloan took a moment. "I'm honestly not sure."

"Thank you so much for your support," Don sniped.

They were silent again for several moments. Until-

"Is he like… better looking than me?"

Sloan slammed her blackberry, which she had just picked up again, back to her lap. "Are you kidding me?"

"No, seriously, tell me. I can take."

"Can you?"

"Sloan."

"No! I don't know! Jim…. He's cute, I guess. But scrawny and wiry…" Sloan trailed off.

"Whereas I'm?" Don asked after a few moments.

Sloan's focus snapped to Don. "I-I don't know," she stammered. "You're….not wiry."

"Gee, thanks."

"Look, Jim's not my type, okay? But women don't all have the same type."

"You're terrible at making people feel better."

"I'm not trying that hard."

Sloan turned and looked out the window while Don continued to study her. "So what is your type?"

"Oh my god!" she shouted, turning back to him. "What do I have to do to get you to shut up?"

"Can you make the traffic move?"

"No."

"Maybe you could…. Flirt with the driver a little bit."

Her face went quickly from annoyed to indignant. "So what, any time you're inconvenienced you're just going to pimp me out to the nearest guy who might be able to help?"

"Just so you two know," the driver said from the front of the cab, "I have no control over how quickly the traffic moves. No matter how pretty the lady is."

"Aw. Thanks!" Sloan beamed.

"Yeah, just keep facing forward," Don grouched, slouching in his seat.

Silence enveloped the pair for several moments before Sloan tentatively said. "Look, the fact that so many people are annoyed by you talking about Maggie should probably tell you how much you're talking about Maggie. And the amount that you're talking about Maggie should probably tell you that you have a problem with Maggie."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Look, I don't know if there's anything going on with Maggie and Jim. But the fact that you're this worried about probably means that she's given you some reason to worry at some point."

"So you're saying there is something up with her and Jim?"

"No," Sloan sighed. "I'm just saying… maybe you deserve better than that. Better than not knowing for sure if your girlfriend really loved you." She turned to look at him. "Maybe you deserve to know that someone cares about you."

Their eyes locked and stayed locked, until the movement of the cab jostled them. Sloan turned to look out of the windshield.

"We're moving forward."

FIN


	2. Chapter 2

"Have you watched them practicing for the mock debate?" Sloan asked, looking up from her phone at Don, who was watching the numbers tick by while the elevator climbed to their floor.

"Maggie's been researching and practicing at home, but I haven't watched everyone else in action yet," Don responded.

"It's pretty funny. "

"How is it funny?"

Sloan laughed to herself as she remembered the rehearsal she'd witnessed a part of earlier in the day. "Well, for one, Jim is playing Michelle Bachman. Which is hilarious for two reasons. One is that there are women, a lot of women, who could have played Bachman. Jim requested to play her. Two is that it's funny to watch him practically choke out things you know he would never want to say."

"Wow, you're easy to amuse," Don said, though he was smirking.

"Shut up, it was funny."

A comfortable silence settled over them as Sloan returned to her phone. After a moment, Don said, "Can I ask you a question?"

Sloan looked up at him curiously before slipping her phone into her pocket. "Sure."

"Do you think I'm a bad person?"

"No!" Sloan responded immediately. "Why would you be a bad person?"

"Because of the kind of news I report."

"What do you mean 'the kind of new you report'? You report the same news as everyone else."

"Yeah, but…"

"What?"

"Mac asked me to-"

The lights went out and the elevator lurched to a stop.

"Oh my god," Sloan breathed out.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh my god."

"Sloan?" Don asked, growing worried. He reached out gingerly, unable to see her, and found her trembling hand. "Whoa. Are you alright?"

"It's just… dark. Dark and… small. And we aren't moving," she responded, her voice trembling.

Don drew her closer. "Hey, it's okay."

"I just don't like the dark…or small places. Or really small, dark places. And unmoving elevators. I don't like those either."

"It's okay," Don said again softly as he gently wrapped an arm around her. He felt her shoulders rising and falling rapidly. "Calm down. It's alright. Let's sit down."

Sloan's hair moved against his chin as she nodded, so Don slowly maneuvered them to the ground, keeping his arm around her shoulders. Once they were sitting, Don dug his phone out of his pocket and turned it on. The light from the phone filled the elevator and for the first time since the elevator stopped Don could see Sloan's face, wide eyed, pale, and terrified.

"There. See? We've got light." Sloan only nodded in response. "I'm going to call Mac and see what's going on." Don dialed and brought the phone to his ear, decreasing the light in the small space. He felt Sloan's hand move up and clench in his shirt in response."

"Don," Mac answered. "Where are you?"

"Stuck in the elevator with Sloan. What's going on?"

"The entire building is out."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. It may be indirectly my fault, but-"

"Wait, what?" Don stopped her.

"Well, I asked God-" Mac tried to explain.

"Yeah, never mind, I don't want to know."

"Okay."

"Do we know how long this will last?"

"I don't know. People are on the phone. It's the heat," Mac explained.

"Yeah," Don sighed, stroking Sloan's arm comfortingly.

"Are you okay in there for awhile?"

"Yeah. Sloan's freaking out a little."

"Well, tell her we're working on it. Other than that, I don't know what to say."

"Thanks, Mac," Don said, sighing as he ended the call. He pulled the phone away from his ear, illuminating the elevator once again. He tightened his arm around Sloan as he said, "We're going to be stuck here for a little while."

Sloan let out a sound between a groan and a whimper, and Don instinctively pulled her closer. "The whole building is out, and nobody knows how long it's going to last."

"How does a whole building like this go out of power in this day and age?" Sloan said, the tremor in her voice decreasing slightly.

"It's probably the whole heat wave," Don said gently. "But according to Mac, God did it for her."

He breathed a small sigh of relief when Sloan chuckled. "There, see? It's not so bad."

Seeking more comfort, Sloan turned into him slightly. "Yeah, it's just… I've had this thing since I was young…"

"A small dark places thing?"

She nodded. "I got… stuck in a locker."

"'Stuck' in a locker?"

"Shoved into a locker."

"Seriously?"

"I was a nerd." Sloan shrugged.

"Well, yeah, but you're…" Don trailed off, not sure how best to end that sentence.

"I'm what?"

"You know… pretty."

Sloan lifted her head slightly to look at Don. "You think I'm pretty?"

Don shifted uncomfortably, which only managed to bring Sloan closer. "Come on. Fans send you tweets asking you to pour water on yourself. You know you're pretty."

"Well, sure, but it's different, you know? When some faceless fan you've never met says it, it's different from when someone you know says it."

"Yeah, well…you're pretty."

Sloan smiled shyly. "Thanks."

After and awkward pause, Don said, "And if you wanted to pour water on yourself on the air, it would probably be really good for the ratings. We could promo the hell out of it."

"Shut up," Sloan giggled.

"Okay, so, the small, dark places mystery is solved. How about the unmoving elevators thing?"

"It's not really a thing. Who likes an unmoving elevator? Usually if an elevator isn't moving it means there's something wrong with it. Doesn't everyone have a thing about broken elevators?"

"Hmm. Good point."

"Thank you," Sloan responded as she leaned her head against Don's shoulder. Don's finger swept up and down her arm absentmindedly as they settled into a silence.

"What were you going to say before?" Sloan said after several minutes.

"Hmm?" Don hummed.

"You thought you were a bad person, and you said Mac had asked you to do something."

"Oh, she has to cover Casey Anthony."

"I know," Sloan replied, rolling her eyes.

"So she asked me to come in and tell the staff how to cover it."

"Why would that make you a bad person?"

"Because she basically asked me how to teach her staff to throw out journalistic ethics and cover the story in the most profitable way, which in this case means the most morally bankrupt way."

"Don-"

"She called me the master of the dark arts."

"She was joking!"

"Doesn't mean it's not true."

"Stop being dramatic. You are not the master of the dark arts. You know how to get ratings. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Sloan, I was basically brought in to teach a good news show how to operate from the gutter."

"That just means you know how to do your job."

"Shouldn't my job be reporting the news the right way?"

"You do!"

"Then why would she come to me for that?"

Sloan paused for a moment. "You do report the news the right way most of the time. And you want to report the news the right way all of the time. But you 're also an expert at ratings. And there's nothing wrong with that. As long as you know the difference. And you do."

He looked down at her. "You think?"

"You wouldn't be worried about it otherwise."

Don nodded. Sloan watched him for a few moments. "Thanks. For calming me down."

He looked back at her and smiled softly. "Any time."

"I'm really glad you're the one I got stuck her with."

Don's brow furrowed as he realized he was really glad he was stuck with her, too. Instead of saying so, he said, "Wanna play Words With Friends?"

"Sure," Sloan said, digging out her phone, finally smiling a real smile.

Don tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach that smile gave him.


	3. Chapter 3

He had done this on purpose.

Sloan was _sure_ of it.

Don had locked them on the terrace in the freezing cold on _purpose_. It was only two weeks ago that, as she was escaping yet another of his attempts to corner her and _talk to her_ that he'd said, "I'll get you to talk to me if I have to lock us in a room together!"

Heated indoor room, freezing outdoor terrace. Same difference.

He had done this _on purpose._

* * *

She was really going to do this.

She was really going to stand out here in the 10 degree weather _as far away from him as she could get_ and ignore him.

Don was pretty sure Sloan was nuts.

The fact that he found that so appealing was exactly the problem.

And it had now been months since she had actually spoken to him outside of brief, monosyllabic, business-related sentences.

It was starting to drive _him_ nuts.

He couldn't believe she was _really_ going to do this.

* * *

"It's only November, it's not supposed to be this cold yet," Don said pleasantly. This was his latest tactic: small talk. He had spent two months trying to reassure her that everything was fine, that what she had said to him when she thought she was never going to see him again was no big deal. And Sloan had spent two months masterfully dodging him at every turn.

So he had decided that he was just going to act like it had never happened. He would still try to talk to her every chance he got, but he wouldn't push her by constantly bringing up what she considered to be an incredibly embarrassing moment. He would just talk to her about pointless shit. Like "can you believe this weather?" or "did you see that AP article?". Like she was everyone else.

Even though she wasn't remotely like everyone else.

Predictably, his attempt at small talk fell completely flat. Sloan showed no sign of even having heard him, focus remaining completely on her phone.

Maybe Don was reading this wrong. Maybe she was going deaf.

* * *

Talking about the weather? Really? He had gone to the trouble of locking them on the terrace only to talk about the weather? It made Sloan want to scream.

But if she did that, it would be acknowledging his presence. And there was no way she was going to do that. It was bad enough she was doing it in her mind.

It was just… he was always_ there_. Watching her. Cornering her. Breaking her heart every second without even realizing it.

Because he had. He had broken her heart. She hated that he had because it made her feel hurt and weak and stupid. But when she had decided to stay she thought that maybe, just maybe, now that Don knew how she felt, that he'd realize he didn't belong with Maggie and choose her.

Of course he had chosen Maggie over her.

Nobody ever chose her.

Not even when they were supposed to be marrying her.

Sloan realized that it wasn't really Don's fault that he had broken her heart, and that he probably didn't even realize he had done it.

But that didn't fix what was already broken.

* * *

The cold shoulder she was giving him was almost as cold as the temperature. Don stood awkwardly on the other side of the terrace. He had left his phone inside, so he had nothing to do but stand there. His choices were between looking out at the city and looking at Sloan. He didn't want to do the latter, but he couldn't help it.

So he watched her as she stared intently at her phone, typing away at the keypad. He wondered who she was texting. He remember when she used to text him. Sometimes it was work-related stuff, but sometimes it would just be something like "I can't wait for this day to be over" or " why doesn't the cafeteria have Fresca?" He would always just smile and go back to what he was doing, sometimes texting back what he thought was a clever response. But now that he wasn't getting them, he really missed it.

If he'd had his phone with him, he would have tried to break the ice with a text. Sure, she would probably ignore it, like she had all the texts he'd sent her over the past few months. Still, it would be better than just standing there.

But his phone was in his office. So he just stood there, watching her.

* * *

Sloan could feel his eyes on her. She hated it. The annoyance spread over her and she clenched her jaw against it. But it didn't spread as fast as the heat. She couldn't help it, with him staring so stubbornly at her. God, she wanted him. She _really_ couldn't help that, either. She felt her flush as annoyance, desire, and embarrassment mixed together inside of her. Ducking her head, she let her hair fall forward from behind her ears to cover her face.

Why had she said what she said to him? She'd been asking herself that question for months, kicking herself for it. Even then a part of her knew that she wasn't going to take that job. So why did she say that? She had done such a good job for so long hiding how she felt, just being friends. But a piece of her mind stopped working correctly that day. It had said "blow his mind. You're leaving anyway. Tell him how you feel, completely throw him off. This time _you'll_ be the one that got away." So she had said it. But then she didn't leave. And he didn't come after her.

* * *

Wait a second, Don realized. Sloan had a phone.

"You have a phone," he blurted out.

"Yes. Thank you for stating the obvious," Sloan mumbled.

Don took a moment to get over the shock of Sloan actually responding to him before saying, "You have a phone. Why haven't you called for help?"

"I texted Mac," she explained, her eyes staying on her phone. "They can't find the key."

"They can't find the key? Are you serious?"

Sloan only offered a passive shrug.

"What about the janitors?"

"All Mac said was that they couldn't find the key."

"And you didn't think I'd like to know any of this?"

Sloan shot him a withering glare. "Sorry."

"Okay, you know, I'm getting sick of this," Don finally snapped. "It's like you're punishing me, and I don't recall doing anything wrong!"

Finally putting down her phone, Sloan lifted her head. She looked past him for several moments before turning her eyes to his and taking a deep breath. Don thought she was actually going to say something.

And then the door opened.

"Thank god," Sloan mumbled as she turned away from him.

"Hey guys," Jim said, leaning through the doorway. "Sorry it took so long. We could find the key and the janitors-"

"I don't care." Don pushed past him.

"What's his problem?" Jim asked as Don stalked down the hall.

Sloan didn't answer as she, too, pushed past him, walking down the hall in the opposite direction of Don, not even caring that she was walking away from her office.

"I said I was sorry," Jim said to nobody, as confused as ever.


End file.
